


Let Me Follow

by JuliaBloodyMeow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Sherlock, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Everyone is trying to get into John's pants, Jealous Sherlock, John Watson in Afghanistan, M/M, Military Homophobia, Set in 2008 (a year after John's leave), Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, The military world is hard on our boys, There are a few ocs but they don't really matter, Trying to stay true to the canon, War, or he tries, smol sherlock, this is so angsty i am so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9530501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBloodyMeow/pseuds/JuliaBloodyMeow
Summary: The Afghan war is still raging when Sherlock's boyfriend stops sending him mails like he used to. Sherlock refuses to believe him dead, or missing, whatever the army had told him. So he goes to investigate himself, to get his lover home. Which proves to be harder than originally planned...





	1. Arrival

Sherlock got down the helicopter to the hard harsh ground, looking around him as soldiers passed by. The sand around him came up as the helicopter’s rotor blades slowed down, choking Sherlock for a bit. Well this was surely unpleasant. The sand, the dust, the sun burning his skin…he wasn’t going to like this. But he had a mission. He had to find John Watson.

Sherlock look over the military camp, settled deep in the Afghanistan desert. Soldiers roaming around, jeeps parked on one side of the camp, tents set up for various uses. That was going to be the worst 5 days (he’d estimated) of his life.

« Mr Holmes I believe, Major Sholto. » a man around his 30’s came up to him, shaking his hand roughly, his grip firm, on the verge of hurtful. Trying to establish dominance, obviously, going by his wide leg stance, forceful handshake and lifted chin trying to tower over Sherlock. Probably Mycroft had warned him that Sherlock could be insufferable once he had an idea in mind. And finding John Watson was his goal now and he didn’t have any time to waste with petty things such as being polite or decent. He had wasted more than enough time already.

« Quite right, I need to speak to your unit and everyone involved in the ambush that took place the 20th March. » Sherlock was already making his way to the tent to what he deduced the main use of was a sort of common room where he was sure to see most of the soldiers at rest (so mostly John’s unit if some of them weren’t still in med bay). Major Sholto didn’t move for a while, probably baffled by Sherlock’s enquiry this soon and the direction he took without any hesitation, but his surprise didn’t show on his face. He seemed a stoic man, of few words, he’ll make the work easier, Sherlock mentally thanked it wasn’t a complete moron in charge.

« Fine but most of them are still out cold in med bay, few others made it back in one piece and I’ll guess it’ll be no surprise to you that the rest didn’t make it back at all. And we have no plans of going to get them anytime soon. » His voice was hard, unwavering when while they were talking he was letting his men being tortured and probably dying if they weren’t already dead. But Sherlock could see through his façade, of course he cared. Sherlock definitely liked this man. He cared so he’ll help but was cold enough to not lose it and follow his instructions, answering questions fairly and quickly.

« Oh I don’t care about getting back the rest of the unit, I only care about one soldier. Captain John Watson. » Sherlock murmured absentmindedly as he made his way swiftly into the tent. Sholto’s mask slipped for a split second at the name, stopping in his track. Sherlock left him outside, not really caring about the Major enough at the moment to bother stopping. He’ll get around to talking to him soon enough.

Sherlock went in like he belonged here, not like every one on his way to the tent sent him either questioning glances or weary glares. Surely some soldiers were all hanging out, some playing cards, others cleaning equipments or fixing them for distraction. And as predicted, some members of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. They weren’t all in their battle uniform so he could only slightly guess which ones belong to which unit but it was obvious to know who was there that day from the scratches, bruises and sprained ankles and broken wrists the soldiers barred.

No scratch that, not the redhead over there, the wound on his head is only because couldn’t pay enough attention during training, obvious from his ADHD. So he wasn’t in John’s unit.

Sherlock had already made a mental list of the ones he wanted to talk to, some he will see later if he absolutely had to. He needed to know as much as he could to calculate John’s chances of survival, if the attack wasn’t lethal to everyone, surely they could recall something. He will need to check med bay later as well. And the person that had set up the attack and decided to assign John to it so he could beat them up.

« Boys, this is Sherlock Holmes, he’s gonna talk to some of you about the ambush that happened last week near Marjah. I want you to answer his questions as you would mine. » And with that he left Sherlock with his men but not without a cautious glare to the the back of Sherlock’s head.

They all looked at Sherlock expectedly, waiting for him to speak. God he hated those type of glares, it’s as if they were begging him to prove he’s the cleverest one in the room.

« Now don’t be an arse, you need those people to help you and they won’t if you’re not in their good books » John’s words echoed in his head. The same phrase he told Sherlock when he started working with Lestrade. And of course John had been right but some people at Scotland Yard made it so tedious to work with them (and calmly on top of that).

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked over the soldiers once again.

« Alright, the ones of you that were present that day and are generally under the orders of Captain John Watson, I’m gonna talk to you, the others get out. » A few of the soldiers got out, looking at each others questioningly. When the tent curtain was pulled aside Sherlock noticed Sholto waiting outside. Seemed Mycroft got himself a good puppy to follow him around. When Sherlock turned back to his audience he noticed the redhead was still there, trying to make himself as small as possible. Of course he knew he didn’t belong among them for that conversation.

« You, if you would mind getting out, it’s quite obvious you weren’t there when it went down. » Sherlock pointed out. Was he being an arse? No it was fine.

The redhead looked at his mates and got up without a word. At least he didn’t try to defend himself uselessly. Good, now Sherlock could begin…

After almost getting punched twice for speaking his mind (« The army isn’t stupid Sherlock, it’s a mean like any other to keep peace », John had said) and even if he ditched both, it was still annoying as it kept him from doing his work efficiently and quickly (stupid). But they didn’t understand Sherlock wasn’t only at war with whoever took hold of John out there, he was also at war with time. He needed to go faster, or he would never get this man back. And he didn’t want to think about the probability of John coming back to Sherlock dead.

« Now, I read the reports and now that we’ve laid out what officially happened I want to know what exactly happened. » Sherlock looked over the soldiers. Three of them seemed to level Sherlock with their eyes, they didn’t quite trust him right about now. The two to the back seemed ready to talk but seemed hesitant to take the first steps, if the bitting of their fingernails and chewing of their bottom lips were anything to go by. Sherlock sighed and sat down to be at level with the soldiers, people seemed to relax and be les cautious when he would be on their level.

Sherlock looked over the seven soldiers before him once again, deciding which strategy to go for, safest so they would help? Fastest so he won’t waste anymore time? The two were hardly compatible and choosing one would waste the advantages of the other. Maybe he could use sentiment? Surely that would get him somewhere and he could improvise from there. First he needed to know which ones to target.

« What are your relationships to the Captain? I can assure two of you are lieutenants so in close relation to your commanders even if you didn’t know him that well, one is a sergeant and have been on this base for a while I’d say 11 months, the rest are privates, you two at the back are quite new to the unit and took a liking to Watson. I think I elaborated enough for you to spill it out because men’s lives are at risk while we’re uselessly chatting. » Sherlock had pointed to the ones he was talking about as he talked and now sat back in his chair, eye focusing on each soldier’s reactions. There was a quiet pause where one lieutenant seemed baffled by Sherlock’s observations (he was used to the slight smile and wondering expression); the other one frowned, usual; the sergeant had looked at the floor at Sherlock’s last statement and hadn’t looked up since, his jaw locking; the two new privates looked at each other, ready to talk apparently but still quietly debating if they should; the other privates were looking everywhere but at Sherlock, arms crossed over their chest.

« They told us not to talk about it, not to go out of the way they had elaborated in the officials. » The oldest new private spoke up. His friend shot him a glare and the weary lieutenant turned around sharply. The private was just 22, Yorkshire accent, first time he was on the battle field, comes from a wealthy family and had signed up to get away from his brother. He was looking to Sherlock’s left but his voice was assured, he had made up his mind. But before he could elaborate, the lieutenant had got up. Balled fists, and frown on, oh so he still wanted to punch Sherlock. Sherlock leveled him with a look and a raised eyebrow, daring him, he knew it was stupid but the man seemed to have a temper. It really wasn’t Sherlock’s fault. And going by the other lieutenant’s exhausted sigh and roll of the eyes this had happened more than once before.

« Who even are you? I’ve never seen you around base before and you don’t look like a gouvernement official. And we already all turned in our statements of the incident, what more is there to find out? » The man’s voice was shaking with anger, he missed his wife and daughter, obviously war was hard on him and he was trying to elevate his sadness through anger like many men. No need to go annoy the man further, he could sentiment his way through this.

But before Sherlock could start the man turned to the private and spoke in a much more calm and professional voice, yet there was still a hardness to it.

« Private Williams, you shut your mouth right this instant that’s an order. » The private held the lieutenants gaze for three full seconds before looking down and nodding slightly. The lieutenant turned to Sherlock again. He took a step, deciding he was the one to speak for the whole of them.

« I’m gonna ask again, who are you? » Sherlock sighed and shook his head nonchalantly, he couldn’t believe it. What did no one seemed to understand in ‘men’s lives at stake’?

« First I’d like you to know I don’t take orders from you. Surely you heard your commander, I’m Sherlock Holmes. » The lieutenant rose an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Fine then, it was going to be his way then.

« I’m a detective, I’m here to investigate the disappearance of the unit because we suspect a cover up. Of what I’m not sure yet, but Private Williams has already assured me there is. So either you comply or I can make sure you won’t see your daughter for another long 5 months. » The room was dead silent, after Sherlock had spoken. None of the soldiers seemed to dare to even breath louder than necessary. The lieutenant’s frown was still on yet it hardened a bit more at Sherlock’s threat, his breathing getting louder. « Show off » resonated John’s voice, full of smile and fondness when he had said it.

« How do you know about my daughter? » He asked, his voice now more quiet. Good, so far so good. Sherlock brushed it off and waited until the lieutenant had sat down. Which he did quite quickly, now that his tantrum was over. The other lieutenant smiled at Sherlock and turned to look at private Williams to which he gave a nod.

«  Hum, Mr Holmes? You’ve asked about Captain Watson, but why not the other blokes of the unit? » Private Williams asked. Sherlock’s eyes focused on him, he was leaning backwards comparing to earlier, his hands were no longer on his knees but between his thighs and he didn’t look Sherlock in the eyes. He was lying, or seeing the question not exactly lying but more likely trying to cover something up about John. Either it was his obvious crush on the Captain or he was trying to protect John’s back from something.

« Captain Watson is the highest ranking officer taken in this ambush, and was the only one closest to being in charge on the field during the attack. Being a doctor he has higher chances of making it than the three privates taken with him. » Sherlock reasoned. Private Williams seemed happy enough with this answer as he nodded and leaned in again. He was going to be the one Sherlock could count on to answer for now, even if it was motivated by his crush on John. Sherlock felt his jaw stiffen but now wasn’t the time to let his feelings get in the way. Yet the smile the kid was trying to hide by biting his lip made Sherlock’s stomach twist.

« Is there something you’d like to tell me Private Williams? »

It was an innocent enough question, but heavy with implications when both knew the nature of the soldier’s feelings. The private frowned but quietly nodded his head. Now Sherlock was just playing with him, unable to keep the bitterness out of the way. He truly needed to focus. But what if… no. Sherlock couldn’t read it on the kid. It was just a crush. A harmless crush…

« If Captain Watson was the only one there, it’s because he had decided to go help some village after Marjah. It was mostly occupied by women and children because it was near the water and the men were on the field. We knew this village was going to be the next target but the head decided not to do anything about it. But Captain Watson disobeyed orders and went there with the few men who agreed to go with him. He wanted to help, he refused to let women and children die and do nothing about it when he could. You know him…I mean, do you? Know him? »

« Yes, I do. » Sherlock couldn’t help the fondness escaping his voice. Of course it was like John to go disobey straight order, to run into danger just to help. Sherlock knew it was exactly why John had enlisted. They had such a huge fight about it too. They fought for days, and barely spoke before John left. Sherlock didn’t sleep a night until he received that first mail, where John told him about the place he was assigned to, his unit, he apologized too. Yet Sherlock didn’t answer, he never answered. He should have.

« Mr Holmes? » Sherlock realized he had dozed off and everyone was looking at him. Great. So far he had the army trying to cover up a commanding officer gone rogue. Predictable. Sherlock looked over the soldiers again, the two lieutenants didn’t go but the one Sherlock had named as ‘the nice one’ had stayed to look out for John’s small unit from base, the four privates had all gone and came back, the sergeant hadn’t gone, but he knew about it yet decided to do nothing. He didn’t go, but he didn’t tell any other officer, didn’t try to hold the unit back, he just did…nothing. Weird. Sherlock had deduced he was near 35, had a wife at home but they were getting a divorce, had been here for 11 months yet his motive for doing literally nothing. He appeared guilty of doing nothing still. Was he just a coward then? No clearly not. Bags under his eyes, tremor in his right leg, he obviously was still at base yet he showed signs of undernutrition. PTSD. That’s why he didn’t go. Understandable.

« Yes sorry, I know him, yes, got distracted. Sergeant you can leave I know you weren’t there and decided to stay out of every move since the last 2 months at least, so you won’t know much if nothing at all. » The Sergeant looked up at Sherlock and nodded, casting a glance at the lieutenants as he passed by before leaving. Major Sholto was still outside, instantly jumping on the sergeant. Probably to ask about how Sherlock was processing.

« So, we all probably know it’s unlikely the army will send anyone to go get Captain John Watson, now that he’s a rebel. Anything else you might want to tell me? » The implication that Sherlock was going to extract any info out of them whether they wanted it or not left unsaid. The nice lieutenant sat up, ready to talk.

« I’m not sure how exactly it happened but Private Williams, Thomas, Lewis and Thompson here can tell you it happened on their way back. It was the troop we knew was stationed in this area who attacked them. When they arrived the village was already ash and no one was in sight for miles. We suspect the enemy maybe saw the unit on their way and decided to attack on the way back so that they could assure collateral damage. We miss 6 statements from the blokes still in med bay, but you can go check on them with Nurse Walcott. She’s very nice and worked closely with Captain Watson, so maybe you can learn more with her. Since you seem to be looking for his connections. And with a bit of luck our chaps would’ve woke up.» The lieutenant smiled sadly at Sherlock and looked around at his fellow soldiers. They didn’t seem to be adding anything to what he said so Sherlock decided to go see this nurse Walcott, now that he had a new lead and knew what the main issue was, he could move quickly from there.

« Why are you doing this? Looking in a rogue captain’s affair, trying to go get him back apparently? » The annoying lieutenant stepped in. Sherlock looked at him, waiting for him to finish his masquerade so that he could get a move on. He didn’t care about the spite that seemed to drive the man.

« He deserves what happened to him. He disobeyed orders, clear, simple orders. He brought it upon himself. » Don’t hit him, don’t hit him, if I hit him right there it would hurt his trachea, sure he would shut up, no, don’t hit him, dont hit him.

« So why are you looking into this? You said you know him…Are you a poof? I’m sure you are. Posh thing like you, no business in coming here otherwise. Not sure what you want with Watson though. Unless he’s a fag too. Never seemed to be, not with the way he used to look at those nurses. Guess you never know someone truly. Watson the traitor and the fa- » 

Sherlock had cut him off by hitting the man’s celiac plexus, knocking the wind out of him and disorienting him. Sherlock then pushed on his shoulder, took hold of the man’s arm and twisted it behind his back, pushing him to the floor.

The other soldiers had all gotten up, all in battle stance, yet they stayed back. Clearly they were reluctant to having to attack Sherlock. Sherlock let go of the man’s arm, straightened his jacket, took a deep calming breath and was back to himself again. He looked at the soldiers, waiting for them to do something. Their stance loosened and Sherlock let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

« John Watson is a very dear, close friend I am about to lose if I don’t move quickly. That’s all you need to know about the nature of our relationship and I refuse to answer any more enquiries about it. Anyhow if you recall anything from that day that could help, feel free to speak up. » And without another word Sherlock left the tent, ignoring Major Sholto calling after him. He was already so done with this.

Sherlock knew the army was full of assholes like the lieutenant and he wasn’t about to risk John’s career because he couldn’t keep a close watch on his feelings. He needed to protect John, so far he had made a great job of hiding it. He needed to keep up the act then.

Enough about this, off to med bay. The odds were still against him for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you guys know how the military in the uk actually works feel free to comment because I don't know anything about it!


	2. John's mail #1

**25 July, 2007**

 

Hi Sherlock, still no answer apparently. If I didn’t know you I would’ve given up long ago. But I know you read these, I know you do. I also know you read them before going to bed because you miss me most at this time of day. I can just picture you in our bed with that adorable pout, reading what I wrote to you before tossing about in a bed still too big for your ridiculously long legs. I miss laying between those legs while going down on you. I also miss the days I was the one leaning down to kiss you. That was so long ago. You were barely legal at the time, you realize I could’ve gone to jail for you love? I would have, in a heartbeat. I’d do anything for you Sherlock. I’m sorry I left. I miss you so much, it’s unbearable. We’ve barely been apart since we moved in together and we go straight to this. To me talking to the wall you’ve built between us? Please Sherlock answer me this time. One word. Anything. That’s all I need.

I love you, I miss you, I can’t wait to come back home to you, if you’ll still have me then.

Bye love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you enjoying this so far? Anything you'd like to see in the story (a specific sentence or moment, anything)?


	3. Recalling pt.1

Oh how John had been right. Of course he was. Since John disappeared he read those emails over and over again, knowing them by heart already. And now that the chances of getting John back were getting slimmer by the seconds, he was just reciting the words in his head over and over again as he marched on. It calmed him. John always calmed him.

 

_« Sherlock, love, I’ve told you not to get into fights. » John had said as he tampered to Sherlock’s wounds, the cotton ball in his hand gently dabbing at Sherlock’s split brow bone. His mouvements always gentle and caring whenever he touched Sherlock. His hands always steady, eyes focused…Sherlock would almost get himself injured on purpose if it meant John would take care of him afterwards._

_« That dumbass had it coming. How was I supposed to know that his hatred towards us, due to his internalized homophobia, would make him hit that hard? » (‘And his crush on you’, Sherlock had thoughts, which was probably why he had actually jumped into the fight in the first place). Sherlock could stand the insults directed at him (he almost had them all anyway, freak, fag, poof, you name it), but when they touched John he would see red. John wasn’t slightly moved by them, usually turned them into a joke. Sherlock ignored them but god when they barely brushed John, Sherlock would turn monstrous and jump at everyone’s throat for days after._

_« I know he did, you git. You just didn’t have to, I can save my honor just fine. » John was now fussing over Sherlock’s black eye. His fingers gently tracing over the forming bruise, down a cheekbone he could see with his eyes closed and a sickeningly sweet look in his eyes. He smiled slightly as he kissed the tip of Sherlock’s nose, his hands cupping the back of Sherlock’s head. Sherlock’s heart had started racing in his chest, but his mind was at peace with John cradled between his legs on their bathroom floor._

 

Sherlock finally arrived at med bay, Sholto on his heels, rambling about the right way to treat his officers and other nonsense. Sherlock couldn’t care less, he had decided he’d talk to the man later and he wasn’t about to change his plans. Nurse Walcott he had deduced was the short blond girl to the far back of the tent. She seemed to be busy with a soldier still lying on a bed, not doing much more than changing bandages and chatting in an overly cheery tone. Sherlock wasn’t sure he was going to indulge her for long.

« Nurse Walcott! May I have a word with you? » Sherlock was already in the middle of the tent, standing with his hands behind his back. Hiding his emotions behind layers and layers of professionalism he worked on for years.

The nurse looked up and arced a brow at Sherlock. She’s never seen him before and he knew her name, confusion is to be expected. Then her other eyebrow joined the other up her forehead as she looked over a distressed looking Sholto. Wouldn’t he let Sherlock work in peace? Sherlock repressed a deep sigh, tightening his jaw and posture.

« You alright James? Is that handsome chap giving you trouble? » Her tone was teasing and Sherlock already hated it. Always too cheerful, has been married for 25 years, has two daughters who are safe and sound with her husband, she obviously had no worries. But going by the state of her hair, nails and skin she’s very invested in her job. Once Sherlock has managed to cut through the over-friendliness he’ll get answers rather quickly.

« This is Sherlock Holmes, he’s here about the Marjah ambush. You don’t have to answer all of his unpleasant questions. » Sherlock could feel Solto’s glare burn behind him. Oh how he couldn’t wait to question the Major, just to savor a sweet revenge at last. The nurse had finished with the soldier she was patching up when they arrived, _just a few stitches that had reopened and needed tending, no need to act like you were dying,_ thought Sherlock after a one over of said soldier.

« Oh okay, of course, let’s go outside to leave them rest. » She motioned to the sleeping soldiers around the tent as she led the way outside. She was very at ease with her surroundings, obviously she knew she owned the med bay and didn’t mind all the sand and heat, she had been here long enough to get used to it. Gosh Sherlock hated it. Why couldn’t John get captured somewhere less warm and deserty?

 

When they were finally outside she turned to Sherlock, waiting for him to speak. Sherlock turned to Major Sholto, obviously waiting for him to leave. They all exchanged a few looks between the three of them before Nurse Walcott smiled at Sholto, tilting her head to the side as if to say ‘You can go’. Which Sholto finally did with a weary sigh and a venomous glare directed at Sherlock.

The nurse shook her head and smiled at Sherlock.

 « Making friends easily I see. » Her strong Scottish accent made it’s way to Sherlock’s brain, his eyes still following Major Sholto’s movements (jerky, almost stomping as he made his way toward the biggest tent which probably habited ’the head’ as they all called it). Sholto made it quite obvious he already hated Sherlock. Didn’t even tried to hide it. Which was totally understandable, most people loathed him.

 

_« Sherlock, sweetheart, not everyone hates you. You know it. I don’t. » Sherlock had been sulking on the sofa for hours, Sally had yet again turned someone else against Sherlock before he had even opened his mouth which made his work harder than it should have been. This adding to Lestrade cutting him off the case because he had hurt a suspect’s (victim in Lestrade’s opinion) feelings, his bad mark in biology because he didn’t show up in class and getting a call from Mycroft abut it made his day the worst. So Sherlock was sulking. He was curled up in a tight ball, his face hidden in the pillow so that John won’t see his face. John was sprawled on Sherlock, covering him like a blanket, his face buried in the wild hair at Sherlock’s nape. His breath down Sherlock’s neck made him shiver pleasantly, but didn’t help the fact that Sherlock felt like the world was out to get him._

_« I know you don’t but the rest of world is against me. They all hate me John! » John had sighed and kissed behind Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock shivered again and turned so that he was facing John now. John kissed his nose and pulled their foreheads together._

_« No, it’s the two of us against the rest of the world. » He had whispered agains’t Sherlock’s lips._

 

« Friends, no, not really my forte. Anyway, we are not here to discuss my social skills. Or lack of thereof. » The nurse chuckled and smiled brightly at Sherlock. He probably had an ally in her. She had been here a full year and had came back from a short shore leave. She had been home when John went away.

« I’d like to know what your relation was to Captain John Watson and if he had spoken to you about his and his unit’s plans to rescue this village. I know you were home when it happened but maybe it had been long planned and I need to know. » The nurse straightened up, her shoulders and back more stiff and feet perfectly parallel, her posture automatically setting into a more professional and military manner, even if a small smile was still playing on her lips.

« He didn’t tell me anything. He clearly spoke his outrage at the fact that the people in charge had decided not to help this village but he never said anything about planning a rogue rescue. But if I had known I would have been on his side. He is such a good man, so kind hearted. It’s terrible no one wants to rescue him and his boys. » She sighed and looked at the floor, biting her lip. She feels guilty about not being able to do something or not daring to speak up against orders. But after a moment she straightened her sagging shoulders again with a deep breath and look straight at Sherlock.

 

« Two of the boys made it back injured, one has only a head injury that required stitches and caused a concussion. But Private Creasey is in the worst shape of all, his shoulder was dislocated and…he lost a leg. I’m unsure how, and none of the other privates present could tell me. They were all in shock when they came back. Private Lewis had to be sedated so that he could get some sleep. » Her eyes were directed toward the tent and her brows were furrowed, she truly felt for the soldiers she took care of. It’s almost as if Sherlock could read the soldier’s injuries on her own body as she talked about them. Sherlock remembers John mentioning a really nice and empathetic nurse, it must be her. If John liked her Sherlock could make an effort.

« Anyway as for my relations to the Captain, he was mostly on field and I stay here unless there’s an emergency, but we are very good friends. Even though he is a very private man we get on very well. I don’t know much about his life at home, I’m sorry. » Her cheerfulness was back, but not as strong as it had been a few minutes earlier. Sherlock smiled at her slightly and shook his head.

« It’s alright I hum, I know him personally. » She rose an eyebrow and Sherlock had to stop himself before saying too much.

« We’re friends and flatmates. » He said with a tight smile. The ‘fake smile’ as John call it.

« Oh alright, well you must know a lot more than I do then. Care to share a bit? » She nudged his ribs with her elbow and a teasing smile was illuminating her face. Sherlock chuckled but shook his head. He didn’t how much Joh had said, what was okay to say or even if they were still officially together. They had parted on such bad terms Sherlock was convinced John wouldn’t have him back until he received the first email.

« No not much, as you say he is a very private person. » Sherlock knew his eyes were far away from the present moment as he recalled John’s words in that email but he is aware his mouth spoke of it’s own accord for him. He snapped back and looked at the nurse who was looking away, her lips pursed as if trying to recall something. He kept dozing off that wasn’t good. He needed to focus. But it was so much harder without John here. He truly needed to focus and solve this quickly, he took a deep breath and steeled his features as much as he could. After a moment she looked back at Sherlock with a tilt of her head.

« Although he did always wrote emails to who I think was his girlfriend. He didn’t talk much about her though, just a mention here and there. The only sure thing I got was that the first letter of her first name was an S and that’s because I peaked over his shoulder when he was typing. Not much after that, I think he mentioned she was taller than him but then it’s not hard to be taller than John » She laughed and Sherlock had to smile back. She wasn’t as annoying as Sherlock had first thought her to be. She was even quite clever. She was a true blabbermouth but then through all the gossips she said some actually useful things. Which made Sherlock’s job easier as he didn’t have to poke around uncomfortable questions.

« But he is a truly lovely man, a shame he was taken, I know more than one who were heartbroken about it here. Every time John wrote these mails it seemed as he was about to cry but then was back full of energy right after he had hit that send button. She never seemed to answer though… Do you know his girlfriend, since you’re a long time friend? »

 

Oh. He hadn’t prepared for that. What could John had said about him? As much as he loved John’s praises (god how much he loved them), he wasn’t sure John was going around praising how brilliant Sherlock was to whoever would listen.

« Hum, yes I know her. She’s quite clever even if she can be pretty stubborn and off putting at times, which can be exhausting. Actually she’s rather stupid. Other than that she’s quite lovely, well she is with John at least, not with everyone. »

That wasn’t so bad. A fair description of himself without being too obvious. That was how John would do it wouldn’t he?

 

« Oh yes, he mentioned quite a few times she was a tad headstrong, but he didn’t seem to complain. On the contrary. We were joking about how my husband would never listen to me when John answered with a ‘Try living with the one I’ve got at home and tell me about it later’ which shut me right up! » She broke into a laugh again. Of course John would complain about him, why wouldn’t he? That arse…

Sherlock felt his throat tighten at this. John still thought of him, still talked about him…still loved him. He regretted now more than ever that he hadn’t answered to those damn emails. They were his only mean of communication with John and he had to be so stubborn, he had decided to throw it away.

 

« Are you quite done with Nurse Walcott?! I believe she has work to do. » Sherlock was so lost in his spout of self loathing and regret he didn’t even notice the Major was back, barking at everything and everyone on his way toward the detective and the nurse. Sherlock turned towards him with a icy glare, watching his expression closely before he had to confront Major Sholto.

« Yes, we’re done. And I believe it’s your turn to answer a few of my questions now Major. »


	4. John's mail #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is John's first email, the one Sherlock is referring to in the last chapter.

**12 May, 2007**

 

Hi Sherlock, not sure you want to hear from me but I need to…talk. Well I need to talk to you. It’s harder than I thought. The lads here are all pretty nice, well my squad is anyway. It’s the army so it’s not the most fun I’ve ever had fore sure, but at least I’m doing what I came here to do. I’m doing my share and actually helping. It’s only been a week and two days but it feels like forever. Every day blends into the other when all you see is the desert and the same people all the time.

You would hate it here. It’s way too hot and sunny all the time. You would surely get sunburn and we’ll surely fight about sunscreen and I’ll talk you into putting some on by scaring you with the risks of cancer. Jesus I miss you Sherlock. I think that’s what the hardest about all this. Being away from you. And I wish I had kissed you goodbye before leaving. And after our fight. I wish I had cuddled with you in our bed instead of sleeping on the sofa. I wish I had told you how much you mean to me because it’s only now that I am realising it’s the longest we’ve ever been apart since we got together and I might not ever get a chance to tell you in person again. We have never been apart for more than three days in 5 years. Now I understand what you meant. And I am sorry.

I love you Sherlock. Take care of yourself please.

Bye.


	5. Recalling pt. 2

They had gone to Sholto’s ''office'', if the secluded part of a tent with a desk could be called an office. 10 ''offices'' were in that tent, all separated by thin curtains. This was probably where what they all called the Head resided, where all the decisions were took and plans were made. It was as hot in here as anywhere else in the camp, files and computers scattered in different ''offices''. Sherlock looked around a bit while following Sholto down the far end of the tent. He better get accustomed to this tent quickly because he could guarantee he was going to spend a lot of time in it.

Well not too much hopefully.

 

« Please, sit. » Sholto’s voice was tight, his breath quick, he was trying to keep himself from hitting Sherlock for sure, he knew the signes all too well. Sherlock looked at the so called office, a desk, a computer, a satellite phone, a normal phone, one chair in front of the desk, a file on the edge of the desk over Sholto’s side. The file was thin, very few elements in it, brand new. Surely it was about John. Well about the ambush but Sherlock couldn’t really care about details that could not help him.

 

« First Mr. Holmes I’d like to tell you that I don’t like how you’re treating my men so far and I have every right to send you back the way you came and make you disappear just as quickly as you appeared.  I don’t know who you think you are but that’s not how it works here. » Sherlock refrained a scoff. A lame threat, great. Sherlock stared down at the man in front of him. He hadn’t deduced him yet…Around 30, no wife or even girlfriend, newly major, probably just a month or two, truly dull and boring. Just a lonely man having nothing but the army in his life. But for now he was the only one who could help Sherlock so he kept his deductions to himself and sat up straight.

 

« Sure, please tell me why you didn’t do anything to save your men even if they had disobeyed orders? » He knew, the man feared for his new position but it was obvious he cared about the men under his responsibility. Sholto frowned and bit his lip, his look defying Sherlock’s.

 

« We had orders. They disobeyed, there is nothing we could have done about it. » His expression was perfectly calm, no hesitation in his voice. His calm was admirable Sherlock could give him that. But this answer didn’t really help Sherlock.

 

« Fine, I understand that but you didn’t answer my question. Why didn’t _you_ save them? Why aren’t _you_ doing anything to save them? » Sholto’s expression didn’t even waver but he did look at his hands and took a deeper breath. He felt guilty, perfect, Sherlock could work with that.

 

« I did answer you, there is and was, nothing I can do. » Sherlock had to keep himself from groaning. He hated people, he was against any new people after this whole ordeal was done.

 

« Is it your fear or yourself talking? I can see you care so why not request a rescue mission? » He was getting restless but then so was Sherlock. But he wasn’t ready to talk yet so Sherlock gave it all he had.

« Time is counting Major, the more time we are wasting babbling away is only making the chances of getting them back alive thinner by the second. »

 

At that the major seemed to crack, he sat up abruptly and turned away from Sherlock. He couldn’t keep his emotions away but he didn’t want Sherlock to see it. But Sherlock could read his helplessness in his tense shoulders and restless leg. When Sholto turned back to Sherlock his face was closed, contained, but barely, his anger and despair could be seen as clear as day to Sherlock.

Sholto took the file and threw it toward Sherlock, sitting down with a sigh. He dropped every pretense by putting his face in his hands, letting his shoulders sag.

 

« There is nothing I can do about it now so have it, it’s the file about the incident. We didn’t recognize the bullets so we’re not even sure who took them, the traces of vehicles had been erased. Not only we aren’t allowed to rescue them but we don’t even know where they are. »

Sherlock looked over the report, pictures of the bullets and of the site. He could admit the deserted crime scene was giving very little clues but if he was on field he could have some theories. If they allowed him to go at that.

But the bullets he could tell they were fired from a firearm like a AK-47, even though the graze was deeper, the canon must have been longer. He wasn’t an expert but he couldn’t recall any AK-47 with a 18in. barrel. What else was strange was the cartridge was thinner and the primer didn’t seem burned, almost like the propellant didn’t hold any gunpowder.

 

« You must be kidding? » Sholto was looking at him with wide eyes, he must have made his deductions out loud. Sherlock looked up from the picture and stared at the Major.

« You mean there’s a new gun on the market? That works without gun powder? »

 

Sherlock was already deep in thoughts so he didn’t bother answering. This was so strange, add this mystery to the rogue act, no wonder they didn’t go save John.

 

« May I see the bullets for myself? I want all the scientific equipment you have to offer. » Sholto stared at him for a few seconds, internally debating whether or not he should help Sherlock. But he nodded with a small sigh.

 

« Okay, but I can’t promise you they’ll all agree. » Sherlock smiled tightly and thought of something. His plan was perfect and he was sure get John back now. Sholto reached for his phone, the normal one.

 

« On one condition, if I find anything more you’ll let me go to the crime scene for further inspections. If I find enough proofs you’ll have no choice but to go get them. » At that Sholto stoped and put the phone down. He looked at Sherlock and down on his desk. Sherlock was clear enough it was really a deal he was making, not even a request, Sholto had nothing to consider. He just had to agree.

 

« I can’t promise anything but if you can convince my superiors they’re alive they won’t have much of a choice. » Sherlock let out a small relieved sigh at this, he closed the file and sat up, ready to dash.

« Mr. Holmes, may I ask you something? »

 

Sherlock turned back and raised an eyebrow, ready for all the stupid questions to start. ''How did you do it?'', ''Are you in on this?'', ''What are you hiding?''…

 

« All my men reported you have an intimate relation to Captain John Watson, is he the only one you want to get back? What even is he to you? » If Sherlock was anyone else he wouldn’t have seen the flaring jealousy behind the Major’s mask of steel. Did Sherlock really had to lock John up so that he would stop stealing everyone’s heart?

Before he could catch himself, it was Sherlock’s own jealousy that answered.

 

« We do have a private relationship that I believe is none of your concern unless there is something deeper you’d like to tell me about? »Sholto looked down and bit his lip. Sherlock was ready to stab anyone who dared touch John if it wasn’t absolutely necessary at any time, now was no exception.

 

« I care about the Captain probably as much as you do an- » Sherlock scoffed and stared at the Major with a look that he knew haunted some for days (but John who would scoff and say something like 'You think The Look is working on me? When you’ve got that adorable pout going on at the same time? Sherlock I’ve been over it for years come on now.').

 

« Oh I highly doubt it. » His voice was ice cold even to his own ears, quietly holding threats, but it was a bit traitorous of the fury boiling through his veins at the thought of anyone else wanting John. John was his and Sherlock didn’t share.

« It doesn’t mean I want to leave the other soldiers to hurt and rot here. You should be focusing on this as well. »

 

And with that he left, not giving a second glance at the Major.

 

_« Hey » John was driving them home from this dumb camping trip. Sherlock had insisted they leave earlier, so here they were in the middle of the night, on a road Sherlock didn’t recognize in the middle of nowhere (he was pretty sure they were lost and John wasn’t telling him)._

 

_« Sherlock will you look at me? » Sherlock kept his eyes glued to the road. He definitely didn’t want to look at John, if he did John will see he wasn’t really mad. He was hurt, angered beyond belief and he had never been this possessive before. This was totally new and he needed time to understand it._

_Before Sherlock could try to see this from another angle John had stopped the car to the side of the road and had turned towards Sherlock._

 

_« Sherlock, please? » His voice was softer this time. John hadn’t really been mad at him, on the moment he had just tried to calm Sherlock down and understand why Sherlock had lashed out at Sarah all of a sudden. Sherlock finally turned to him and he portably shouldn’t have because John was gorgeous. The moonlight making his eyes the deepest of blue, lining his profile against the darkness of the car._

_Sherlock felt his heart jump in his throat and turned his eyes back to the road._

 

_« Why aren’t we moving? »  Sherlock asked in a quiet voice. John sighed and bite his lip. He didn’t know if now was the right time to talk about it. ‘Please don’t. Let’s just go home.’ had thought Sherlock. But of course John had to try and talk about it._

 

_« Sherlock has Sarah been mean to you? Did she do or say something? You need to tell me so we can figure it out. I invited you to this trip because you told me you didn’t have any friends and because we get along really well I thought you’d…I don’t know what I thought…I’m sorry. »_

_Of course John would pity him, Sherlock was 19, the youngest person in John’s chemistry class, and when he had told his new room mate he had no friends, John the Saint had to do something about it._

_Sherlock truly wondered how John had made it this far in life, being so nice all the time._

 

_« No Sarah hasn’t been mean, not to me at least. I was merely protecting you from her. » That was good, John had heard what Sherlock had said to Sarah. But at that John raised his eyebrows and slowly nodded to himself. Sherlock knew this to be his fake understanding face._

 

_« What do you mean protecting? She didn’t do anything… » Sherlock sighed and bite the inside of his cheek. He needed to be careful with this, he didn’t the extent of his feelings for John and he feared he’d say too much and John would leave. He couldn’t let that happen._

 

_« She got dumped before coming here, but you probably knew that already, and she was suddenly showing interest in you. You didn’t think that was a bit suspicious? Of course you didn’t. But did you know she had been cheating on her boyfriend? And you’re exactly the same type as her ex-boyfriend and she probably would have cheated on you too if you did get into a relationship with her after a night of love making under the stars. I was just protecting your honour here, because I doubt your oh so mature, 4 years older than me group of friends would have found that reputable. Sorry to tell you that but they’re all idiot, even if they’re people your age and you’re convinced I would get along with them because of that. »_

_Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh and went back to sulking against the car window._

 

_John was looking at Sherlock with wide eyes. He let out a small sigh and started the car again, and went back onto the road, without turning back to the camp. So they were going home. After a few minutes of driving in silence John’s hand moved from the wheel to lay on Sherlock’s knee. Sherlock ignored him but did stop his leg from shaking restlessly like it had been since they got into the car._

 

_« You know I can tell when you’re sulking for real, so I know there’s something else. » John had whispered. That’s when Sherlock looked away from the window to throw a look at John, his eyes were glued to the road in front of him._

_« I should also tell you I have no idea where we are. »_

 

_« I know. » Sherlock had answered, the smallest of smiles plastered on his face._

_Thankfully they both kept quiet after this, John’s hand laying on Sherlock’s knee all the way until they made it home._

_It was the day John learned Sherlock was the jealous type, even if Sherlock didn’t know what this jealousy was or where it came from yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you guys liking it so far? Comments and kudos are always appreciated~


	6. John's mail #3

**9 August, 2007**

 

Hey Sherlock, I’m writing you two days in row because today something made me think of you. A lad here is dating this very tedious girl, probably the worst on this planet. He was telling us about this time they went on holidays and she won’t let him out the tent without her because she thought the girl on the spot next to theirs was trying to get into her boyfriend’s pants. Thankfully you’re never that jealous (this girl is just crazy) but it reminded me of a certain camping trip 7 years ago.

You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you in that car. It was the first time I realized you probably liked me more than you let on.

Next time we find ourselves lost in the middle of nowhere I won’t hold back from kissing you. I’ll kiss your neck until your legs shake and your lips until your heart bursts. I miss you so much, I wasn't prepared for how much I’ll miss you…

 

Anyway, see you soon love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated guys, it keeps writers going and makes us want to share what we write, so if you could share your thoughts about the story I'll love you eternally~


	7. Finding Ways

After fighting with the scientists of the camp for what had felt like a decade, Sherlock managed to worm his way to a microscope and get his hand on one of the bullets they had recovered and had not already toyed with. His analyses of the residues found in the propellant confirmed his hypothesis about the absence of gunpowder. He had also managed to refine his estimate of the length of the cannon to 17.6 inches. Surely a new sniper weaponry, that works without gunpowder. Sadly he missed the equipment necessary to say what exactly was in the propellant but he would say some kind of gas.

If only Mycroft answered his damn phone for once in his stupid life…

 

« Major, you have here the detailed report of what I found out. I should also warn you I may have insulted your scientist but they missed what I could figure out from a photograph while having the evidence right under their nose so they deserved it. »

Major Sholto stared at the report file Sherlock had dropped on his desk, slowly looking up at Sherlock. Sherlock noticed he barely slept last night but not because he spent the night working, he just hadn’t been able to find sleep. So Sherlock _had_ made a good job of guilt tripping him into submission.

 « Holmes, you spent the whole night on this? »

 « Why are you so surprised? Of course I spent the whole night on this, what else was I supposed to do? Don’t tell me ‘sleep’, sleep is tedious and not my priority right now. Anyway, I’ve helped and I believe we had an agreement, it’s your turn to honor your part. »

 And so Sherlock left just as swiftly as he came, leaving a gaping Major in his wake. While waiting for the Major and his troupes to get a move on, he took a moment to sit down and reread one of John’s mail. He had almost answered to this one.

 

It had been a pretty bad day, he had taken a plunge into the Thames and his surrogate mother wasn’t in to take care of him. He had found himself sopping wet, ice cold and alone in a way too silent flat with only John’s words to keep him company. He had typed in a quick reply, the words heavy enough that he didn’t much more to convey how he felt: « John please for the love of god, come back. Come back. Everything aches, nothing tastes good, everything is cold. Please come back. I can’t do it anymore. SH »

But he’s never been able to bring himself to actually send it. So the mail just sat in his drafts, almost mocking him now that Sherlock probably had lost John. For real this time.

 

« Mr. Holmes?! » Sherlock looked up sharply at Private Williams, his expression a mix of annoyance and concerne. He had called Sherlock a few times already but the detective had been too busy glaring at his phone like it had personally offended him to actually hear the young private, too engrossed in his self loathing to notice. Without a look back at private Williams, Sherlock sat up, grabbed the backpack nurse Walcott was holding for him (clearly, it didn’t have any name tag on it and had a water bottle more than the others), jumping in the front of the jeep taking him and three other people to the crime scene.

 

The drive was actually pretty long, the officer driving was being particularly careful so very slow. Sherlock didn’t know him but couldn’t care enough to deduce him. He settled to humming or nodding to Sholto’s occasional questions and ignoring the annoying banter of private Williams, who apparently couldn’t ever be put on stop. Basically he was trying not to die of boredom before a heatstroke or dehydration took him.

 « Here it is. Not sure what you want to do here, we already checked everything. We found nothing and I don’t see what more you could do. » Sherlock huffed in answer and didn’t even bother taking a look at the officer, he was only good to driving around and god save them all if this was the kind of men fighting for other people.

 Sand, loads of it. A bush here and there, not enough for a snipper to hide, not here then. With a barrel this long it could only be a very long shot, he had to widen the perimeter. They had said the attack had happened on early morning so they must have been hiding east. If they had been hiding west, in the middle of march with a sun rising perfectly on the east they would have been busted instantly. Now was around the same time as the attack so Sherlock walked towards what he believed was east.

 

« Hey where are you going?! You can’t go alone! Holmes! » Sholto was quickly picking up with him, jogging until he was walking beside Sherlock. Thankfully he wasn’t walking to Sherlock’s right. He had called his right side ‘John’s side’, John would always find himself on Sherlock’s right whenever they do anything together. It was their unspoken rule. He suspected it was because it was easier to hold hand, John being left handed and Sherlock right handed, it just made perfect sense. When Sherlock came back to the present moment, the major was still pestering him.

« -othing, literally nothing, what do you want to find if there’s nothing?! Now you’ve seen it let’s go back! »

 

Even with the burning sun blinding him, something caught Sherlock’s eye in the distance, something on ground level, glistening.

« So if you were so efficient checking everything, surely you can tell me what it is over there? »

 Sherlock pointed towards the shining object, not expecting an answer form the major but not missing a chance to show off. It felt good, it felt familiar but it was bittersweet without John’s inputs of ‘fantastic’ or ‘brilliant’.

 Sholto’s stance immediately changed, the soldier appearing in a micro second. Grabbing the riffle hanging from his shoulder, ready to either attack or defend, whichever would shoot first.

« It was a sniper you said? »

 While being impressed to some extent by the major's quick reaction and thinking, Sherlock rolled his eyes. It was still dumb thinking. Without answering Sholto, he marched on towards the glimmering object. It was a clue, it’ll bring him to John. He was actually making progress.

« Holmes! What are you doing? »

 

« If it had been a snipper we would be long gone. Fall out major. » As Sherlock got closer he could distinguish a round shape, put it wasn’t in relief. Something round and flat around here: a dog tag!

_Please don’t be John, don’t be John, please, please, please. Anyone else but John…_

Sherlock hurried to the dog tag, dread filling his stomach at the name that would appear on it. There was only one dog tag, it probably had been taken off on purpose, if it had been taken off by the terrorist they would have ripped it all off and the other part wouldn’t be missing.

 

**O NEG**

**25150435**

**HART**

**S O**

**CE**

 

« Oh shit…Hart…Is he…Do you think he’s dead? » The major was next to Sherlock now, reaching down to get the dog tag from the dirt. Sherlock had been crouching in front of the dog tag for barely 10 seconds, he hadn’t had time to be sure of the directions the private had been taken yet.

« Touch these tags and I’ll make sure you won’t see the light of day again. »

Sholto slowly took his hand back towards himself, Sherlock’s deep voice echoing in the deafening silence.

No obvious marks, there had been wind since and if what they say about the terrorists cleaning up after themselves is true, he won’t find answers here. He took his eyes back to the tag, the small chain still attached to it was pointing east. The chain wasn’t twisted so it didn’t fell straight down and pointed towards a random direction, it was taut and pointing east. They had been taken towards there.

 

« These dog tags were taken off on purpose, they were taken even farther east. Is there a known base? A village? » Sholto expression was still closed off and focused, soldier ready for battle still over present.

 

« There used to be a village but they were taken and destroyed, there’s nothing left. Everyone was killed, no prisoners. They just destroyed everything and left. »

Sherlock nod and sat up. Now that he knew where to look he had to keep going in that directions. He retrieved the dog tag and walked east, going on a perfect straight line. The major was still on his heels but he had stopped asking useless questions. He had settled for staring howlishly at Sherlock all the time since this morning.

 

They walked for about ten minutes when Sherlock noticed something on the ground. It wasn’t that far but it was hard to notice. Getting closer he still wasn’t sure what it could be…But the distance matched the one he estimated for the shot, the car being in the perfect reach and range. It could just the remnants of the sniper, he had probably lied down and left deep enough marks.

 « Holmes, we gotta go…the guys at the car are signaling me they’re picking up the signals of something. It’s very faint so it must be pretty far but we’re not taking unnecessary risks. I hope you found enough. »

No! They couldn’t leave now! He had something! He was sure it was something important!

 

_But what use could you be to John if you’re dead?_

 

He truly hated his voice of reason sometimes. So Sherlock followed the major to the car, got in and didn’t speak. He needed to focus, the dog tag, what more could he deduce?

It hadn’t been taken off cleanly, it had been ripped; fairly new, not scratches aside from the sand that rubbed on it when it had been on the ground for days. Now the position it was in: if it had fell randomly the two ends would have pointed in different directions, but here they were pointing in the same direction. It had been placed neatly, well as neatly as Private Hart could in the frenzy of being taken away by terrorists of course.

 

He hadn’t even realized they were already back at the base. The major was on the phone with someone, a superior if his soldier stance was anything to go by, even if the person on the other side of the phone couldn’t possibly see it. Sherlock got out of the car just when the Major’s call ended. He immediately turned to Sherlock, waiting for the detective to reach him to speak.

« You must send an air patrol to monitor the surface we covered, especially where I found the marks. Maybe they will come back and we’ll be able to track them down. » But Sholto didn’t answer, just looked at the ground and bit his lip. Guilt, bad sign.

 « Mr. Holmes, your brother asked your immediate return and that we take care of it from here. » Sherlock stared at Major Sholto, his blood running cold in a second, his stare hardening at the Major’s request. He felt his own fists clenching at his sides.

 « No. I’m not going back until Captain Watson is safe with me. » The major sighed and opened his mouth to argue but Sherlock was quicker.

« Your stupid army already teared him away from me I won’t let it take him away forever! » Sherlock had yelled so loudly he felt his vocal chords protesting. He could also feel the eyes of everyone around them on him.

 « He enlisted Mr. Holmes, he knew the risks. » The major’s voice was quiet, with no bite in it . He was resigned. They won’t be looking into it any more than they did before. They won’t do anything and they both knew it. Sherlock scoffed and let his head fall into his hands. John and his fucking stupid righteousness.

 

_John came home from his night of internship, he had taken the night shifts since he and Sherlock had had that big row about John enlisting. It was absolutely out of the question for Sherlock, but who was he kidding? He just thought John was sulking, but had let go of the idea…except it was John Watson he was dating. And even if you were Sherlock Holmes there was some things you couldn’t make him do. Or not not do._

  _« Found this in the mail…were you going to tell me at all? » Sherlock raised the letter without taking his eyes away from his book as John entered the kitchen. John steps stoped when he recognized the seal at the bottom of the letter._

  _Stepping more into the kitchen, he snatched the letter from Sherlock’s fingers without a word, only a sigh. This silence had been their companion for almost a month now. Well, three weeks and five days if Sherlock wanted to be precise about it._

_« I told you not to open my mail Sherlock. »_

_« Were you going to tell me at all? » Sherlock still hadn’t looked up, but John knew him well enough. His calculated tone was betraying how hurt he actually was. John read the letter and folded it, putting it in his diary laying on the kitchen table and stepping into their bedroom to change. The bed was still made, Sherlock wasn’t able to sleep in it by himself and with John on night shifts so frequently, he mostly slept on the sofa, or didn’t sleep at all. Like last night._

_When John came back after a quick shower he sat in front of Sherlock, the heavy silence still hanging between them. He folded his hands in front of himself and stared at them. He knew that if he looked at Sherlock, all his determination would crumble like a house of cards._

_« I don’t know if I was going to tell you, we’ve been ignoring each other for almost a month Sherlock. I don’t know…I just can’t stay here and do nothing, I just can’t. »_

_Sherlock closed his book and looked at John. It felt weird looking at him. Really looking at him. He knew John had been right here, John still came home after his shifts and classes, they still ate together, did everything together. But it felt as if John had been miles away and he had found him just now. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know what to say beside ‘stay, please, stay. I don’t want you to die. I love you so much I can’t lose you please’. But he wasn’t actually going to say that._

_« You could get killed. What would you do then? How would you help by risking your life for people you don’t even know? »_

_« You’re not always right Sherlock. And you’re certainly not right as to what I’m supposed to do with my life. »_

_John’s voice was hard, he had made his decision and there was nothing Sherlock could do about it now.Sherlock couldn’t bear looking at his boyfriend anymore, couldn’t face John. So he sat up, snatched his coat on his way out the door and without a look back threw over his shoulder._

_« Fine, leave, see if I care. »_

 

Sherlock looked up at the major and straightened his spine, trying to tower over a man with a training much better than his (even if Sherlock was good in hand to hand, Sholto could still probably break his neck). But Sherlock was determined, stubborn, and John needed him. And no one, not even Mycroft could get in the way of that. He was going to bring John Watson home, even if it killed him.

« No. I won’t leave this godforsaken excuse of a country without John. »

« It wasn’t a question Mr. Holmes, it was a direct order from your brother. He clarified I will lose my position and any chance of ever working again if you didn’t return. » The Major took a step back from Sherlock and gave him a nod.

« You’re due to leave first thing in the morning, you’ll be lead to Captain Watson’s quarters for the night. Goodbye Mr. Holmes. »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was a pretty long chapter, pretty angsty too...your thoughts so far?


	8. John's mail #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the mail Sherlock almost answered to.

**14 November, 2007**

 

Hey Sherlock. It’s 7 months and 5 days without you. And still counting apparently…they refused my request to come home for Christmas. They prioritize people with kids and as the second in command of med bay, now that the chief has gone home, I have to stay there. But I will try to come home for your birthday. Well if you answer me, maybe you don’t want me to…

I’ll take you to that Italian restaurant you love so much (but that I hate), then we could take a stroll around London if we’re not chasing a murderer or burglar or whatever maniac you’d be after. Then we’ll go home and I’ll prove to you how much I love you. I’ll tell you how brilliant, fantastic and perfect you are and I’ll make love to you until you can only remember us. How does that sounds for a birthday plan?

Anyway, I’ll see you soon beautiful.

Love you, bye.


	9. Yearning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So two things
> 
> 1/ There a few bits that are a bit NSFW (not full on smut but I rather say, just in case)
> 
> 2/ The italic bits are either thinking or flashbacks this one doesn't change, but the italic underlined bits are written down things
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

_Outrageous, simply outrageous!_ Sherlock thought as he once again went straight to voicemail. Mycroft wasn’t answering any of his calls, nor one of his texts, but that’s probably because he knew Sherlock would kill him through the receiver. Because he really wanted to. He’ll just leave a message then, won’t he?

« Mycroft, if you force me to come back I swear I will burn England to the ground, it’ll be as lifeless as it is here. Cancel that order right now or I’ll never forgive you. You’re a prick Mycroft, you may be the British governement but you’re worth nothing to me. Cancel it! Now! » He heaved a sigh as he ended the call and threw himself on the makeshift bed placed there. It really was John’s room, the pillows smelt like him, more sweaty and sandy but still so John.

 

Sherlock pushed his face further into the pillow, breathing in deeply. It felt as if he could finally breath, barely, but more than the past ten past months had allowed him. Sometimes missing John was bearable, he still wanted to cut the throat of everyone that crossed his path but at least he could function like a human being. When John’s absence made itself known more than that, it felt like everything was lifeless around him. As if he was underwater, he could hear people address him, feel them moving around him, but it felt so far away from where he was.

 

Another clue that John had been staying there was how he had moved the furniture. It mirrored how they had placed it back home when John had moved into his room.

 

_« John I had a thought. » Sherlock spoke from his spot on John’s lap. John’s hand in his hair didn’t stop playing with the wild curls, but he did make a noncommittal hum to say he was listening._

_« I think you should move into my room with me. »_

_At this John’s hand stilled in Sherlock’s hair, Sherlock had also noticed his breath had hitched. He cracked open an eye to take a look at his boyfriend, the morning light filtering from their living room drawing a rainbow in John’s blond hair. John was staring at his paper and biting his lip, unable to move or looked down at Sherlock, but his shock was fairly obvious to the boy in his lap. The small frown his eyebrows displayed, the tightening in his jaw…sure Sherlock caught him off guard but it wasn’t that much of a surprise was it?_

_« John, say something please. » John had finally looked down at Sherlock and slowly started smiling like a madman, his eyes lighting up as well when his eyes met Sherlock’s._

_« John, the weird one is supposed to be me, stop it. »_

_John then kissed Sherlock with such force the detective’s lips bruised almost immediately, but it didn’t stop him from kissing back of course. After thoroughly making out in a very uncomfortable position John drew back and went back to playing with Sherlock’s hair like nothing had happened._

_« So does that means yes? » Sherlock inquired, he was totally clueless about how all this was supposed to go, why John had reacted the way he did. It just made perfect sense for John to move into his room with him, for all the times his boyfriend complained he had to go back to his own room after making love to Sherlock, about how he wanted to cuddle up with Sherlock every night and yet not staying when Sherlock offered, it was ridiculous to always go back to his own room when they already shared the same flat. And both wanted to sleep together (quite literally)._

_« Of course it does, but on one condition. » Sherlock raised an eyebrow. What the hell does John want now? He had already cleaned his room of all experiments after John found dirt in Sherlock’s bed, there was nothing else to change._

_« We need to move your furniture, it’s really impractical. »_

_At first Sherlock had refused, but then complied when he understood what John meant. His bed was way too far from the door and it made their way to said bed infuriating, especially when John was on his way down Sherlock’s stomach but then teased him that with the bed so far, he couldn’t help his boyfriend’s situation. They had moved the bed towards the opposite wall after that and all the trips to the bed where all better this way._

 

Sherlock smiled at the memory, John always knew how to get what he wanted from Sherlock. He was probably the only one. He turned into the pillow and inhaled a deep breath of John one more time before forcing himself up. He needed to find clues, the clock counting even quicker now that Mycroft had decided to ruin his life, probably forever.

 

Maybe he left something for Sherlock, he always does it when he goes somewhere. He always leaves notes around the flat for Sherlock to find if he forgot John went out. John was so used to Sherlock not paying attention he knew he had to take a head start so his idiot of a boyfriend won’t freak out at his absence.

Sherlock looked around the desk, but found nothing of interest. Just drafts of reports, reminders to do this and that, nothing concerning Sherlock. He also checked the drawers, checked if they had a double bottom. They didn’t. He had found John’s birth certificate tapped to the bottom of their bedroom desk, maybe he did it again. Nothing there either.

 

Where would John hide something as secret as Sherlock here? Under the bed?

He went to check it but found nothing there too. Nothing under the mattress either.

 

He knew John was clever, cleverer than most. The most clever thing to do when hiding something would be to hide it in some place uncommon…Sherlock had once told him after a case that the best place to hide was in plain sight. Sherlock made his way to the opening of the tent and turned back to face the room. What was the first thing he’d notice when entering the room? The bookshelf.

He checked every book, between every page. Nothing. He has looked everywhere and has found nothing. Sherlock fell back on the bed, desperation tearing at his mind. He let out a sigh and gritted his teeth. Soon he won’t be able to think anymore. He won’t be able to function. John’s absence made it unbearable. What if his life was like this from now on? What if he spent his whole life looking for John, never to find him?

 

 _« You’re working yourself up, Sherlock. Take a break. Eat something or take a nap. Better, have pity on me and shower. Please at least shower, love. »_ John had whispered against the back of his neck during a particularly hard case. John had actually gotten worried then.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

 

He refused it. He won’t back down now that he was so close. He could feel it. He won’t leave this place without John or he’ll die trying.

Not time for self loathing. He reopened his eyes and set his mind to every little detail he could spot from here. With renewed energy his eyes roamed the small sandy space. Desk checked, bookshelf checked, what next? Patches in the tent, maybe there could be hidden pockets in the tent’s fabric. His eyes scanned the whole tent, nothing on the sides.

He groaned and looked up at the ceiling again.

 

There it was. Right in front of his nose. The small pocket in the tent’s ceiling was now so painfully obvious.

 

Sherlock shot up in the bed, not caring that his dirty shoes were ruining the bed sheets when he stood. His heartbeat had sped up considerably. The height also added up, it was just enough for John to reach it (Sherlock’s height making it really easy for him to get it). He retrieved the small notebook hidden in the pocket, he didn’t know this notebook, but it was definitely John’s handwriting.

He made his way to the desk and sat at it, clutching the notebook like his life depended on it. It wasn’t a fancy notebook, not like his usual diary (he had left it at home), it actually looked very mediocre. John’s neat handwriting spelling his name on the front cover.

 

_John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers._

 

The notebook dated back to 9 months prior, 2 months after John’s leave. It wasn’t a personal diary, it would be almost full if it was. There was no date but the pen seemed to change at almost every entry.

 

_I haven’t been able to sleep since I left. Sherlock hasn’t answered any of my mails, but then that was to be expected. He can be such a stubborn arse. I miss home. I miss making tea while Sherlock destroys our kitchen with another crazy experiment. I miss chatting with Mrs. Hudson after a shift. I miss waking to a bush of curls tickling my nose. I miss the deep moans as Sherlock writhe under me. I miss him so much._

 

If that was the first entry, at that point, Sherlock had passed out twice because he had forgotten to eat and had just started talking to Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade again. Just a little bit, a word here and there. Full sentences would come another month after that.

Most of the entries were John describing the horrors of the war (blood, suffering, loss). Sherlock could tell his hand had shaken when he had written them. He tried to skip those and looked for the ones with his name in them. The next one he had found dated back to the beginning of the month he was taken.

 

_I’m getting tired of my dreams. They’re either nightmares or I’m relieving the same thing over and over again. The night Sherlock and I got together._

 

 _John had come home late that night. One of his friend’s birthday’s but Sherlock had refused to come. He came home late but he wasn’t drunk, he just had two drinks. No wait, three,_ _tendinitis in_ _his shoulder was more relaxed._

_« Sherlock, it’s 5 in the morning what are you doing still up? » Sherlock shrugged in answer, he had been waiting for one of his experiments to finish but then had lost himself in his own thoughts._

_John came over to the couch and motioned to Sherlock to scoot over. Sherlock did but frowned at John._

_«Surely sleeping on the couch would be bad for your shoulder. »_

_John looked up and smiled, shaking his head. He sat way closer to Sherlock than he usually does. And he laid his head on Sherlock’s shoulder with a sigh._

_« Don’t worry wifey, I’ll be alright. »_

_Sherlock frowned and looked down at John waiting for an explanation. He got none. John just looked at him with that look he sometimes got when he looked at Sherlock doing something ridiculous or dangerous. He had spent a good night without getting totally shit faced, he wasn’t that drunk. He had gotten a girl’s number was not interested in the slightest. He had no idea what had made him look et Sherlock like this. But Sherlock tried not to linger on his best friend’s eyes as when he stared too long, he got lost in them (and his heartbeat elevated really uncomfortably)._

  _John sat up and slowly, carefully placed his lips on Sherlock’s. he had given Sherlock time to draw back, but somehow the younger man didn’t. It wasn’t like the fireworks he heard some people describe, it was both calm and excitement. Coming in waves with each move their lips made together. Sherlock kissed back, even though he had no idea what to do and was still very shy. When they pulled back, Sherlock opened his eyes and bit his lip. Looking everywhere but at John._

  _John’s hand had made it’s way to Sherlock’s jaw during the kiss, but he quickly dropped it when he realized what had happened. He coughed and bit his own lips._

_« I’m sorry I…God Sherlock I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to…I don’t what happened there I looked at you and… »_

_John sighed and let his head fall into his hands._

_« Okay… I guess the cat’s out of the bag now. Sherlock, ever since we met, I was instantly hooked. I’m always drawn to you and I tried very hard not to let it show. I know you’re not into that kind of thing and I respect that. I’m sorry, try to please forget it? »_

_But Sherlock didn’t want to forget. So he showed John the best way he could think of at this moment. Their kisses grew heated and John had ended up giving Sherlock his first blowjob right there on the couch. The way his hand had moved along with his mouth on Sherlock’s prick had reduced the young detective to a shaking babbling mess. They didn’t do more that night because Sherlock had to process all that had happened, all the changes between them. But they had slept in each other’s arms that night (on the couch unfortunately)._

 

Sherlock smiled at the memory, even though a pang of lust and aching for John to be back hit him. He shook his head and went back to reading John’s words. Now was not time to daydream.

 

_God, I miss him so much. Sometimes I’ll wait for him to say something snappy at what someone said only to realize that he isn’t there. How I wish they’ll let me leave. Even if Sherlock doesn’t want me anymore (I did abandon him after all, I left without a goodbye. I didn’t even spent my last night with him.) I just want to apologize. Everything is wrong and sort of…off without him. I’m 30 and here I am crying over him like I did in high school. But Sherlock and I did spend seven years together. Two as friends and five as partners, lovers, best friends. Since that first look my life has revolved around him, us. Sherlock is my everything and I let him down. I thought we’ll always be together because it’s just the way it is. Sherlock and John, never one without the other. But now I think I lost him forever, and it’s all my fault._

 

Sherlock knew John loved him, of course he did. And even the dumbest of idiots could see it. But to see those words, words he probably wasn’t ever meant to read, speaking John’s feeling about him so deeply…that was something else. Something else entirely. It was more than a quick 'I love you' when they left each other, knowing they would see each other at home. It was more than Sherlock actually celebrating valentine’s day because he knew it was important to John. It was more than hours of making love without breaking eye contact even once.

 

Sherlock sighed and let his head hang. Tears were picking at his eyes. He was so tired and just wanted his lover back. He just wanted John to be safe, in the grayness of London. Home with Sherlock as he was meant to be.

There was nothing more on that page so Sherlock went to the next. This one was a letter, one addressed to Sherlock.

 

_Dear Sherlock,_

_Love, please forgive me. I know my stupid pride and righteousness has hurt you and I’m so sorry. If you find it in yourself to forgive me please do because it’ll probably be the last thing I ask of you. I don’t know if I’ll come back from this, first because it’s very dangerous, but also because I’m disobeying direct orders. I’m going to try and save the remaining villagers the army refused to help. They deserve to live as much as anyone and if I have to betray my country so be it._

_You surely think my bravery is stupid, and you’re probably right. But in my last streak of stupidity, I’ll ask this last thing from you. Sherlock Holmes, if I make it out alive and you ever find this, will you accept to ma-_

 

« Mr Holmes! You gotta see this! » The lieutenant that Sherlock had named in his head as 'the Nice Lieutenant' came rushing into John’s tent abruptly, cutting Sherlock’s reading. Has he looked over the papers the Lieutenant laid on the desk hurriedly, Sherlock tried to slow the beating of his heart. Back into action.

 « I think this is your assured ticket to the Captain. »


	10. John's mail #5

**25 December, 2007**

 

Merry Christmas love! I’m so sorry I can’t be with you this year…

You’ve probably gone to your parent’s, tell them I say hi and wish them a happy Christmas from me. And try not to stab Mycroft with a ballpen this year.

Here the boys who have family at home sent them a few presents so we’re celebrating together. I got a card from my parents and a bottle of whiskey from Harry. I also expected…I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s silly. You probably don’t even read these. And you hate Christmas.

Anyway, have a good time at home, behave, I’ll see you soon.

I love you Sherlock. Bye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I really want your feedback about it all so far and I hope you're still enjoying this~


	11. Closing in

Sherlock examined the Lieutenant with a quick sweep of his eyes over him, if this man were to help him he needed to know more about the man. See if he could b trusted. American, from Chicago if Sherlock was right about his accent, mid-thirties, no wife (she had left him or had died?) but he had a kid, a boy, and also a dog that was on base with him. And of course he would support John, he too had strong moral principles and held freedom above everything else. He wasn’t weary of Sherlock, on the contrary, he seemed to like him from the beginning.

 

Sherlock could see stains on his uniform that wasn’t blood or the dirt that could be found everywhere here. It looked like sauce, like what would would find in a trash behind a kitchen.

« Did you rummage through a bin? What have you found there that could be so interesting to make you go through a bin? »

 

The Lieutenant smiled and pointed at the papers. The report that was the so called official one, they were clean of any stains so it wasn’t those the Lieutenant had fished out.

« I was wondering what they had actually put in the report, because they had already made us lie about it. So I looked into it and some of the data there was suspicious. »

 

Sherlock looked over the papers as the Lieutenant talked, he already went through those in the report Major Sholto had given him, there was nothing there. Those were the  security measures the army had to take after any attack, planned or not. It consisted mostly of flying over the area at night and some parts of the day to check for any activity, those would be either visuals, but also radio frequencies and thermic cameras.

And those reports showed no sign of activity what so ever.

 

« There’s nothing there, how could there be nothing there? »

The Lieutenant grinned and nod at Sherlock, he was slightly bouncing one of his legs and his shoulders were towards Sherlock, even if they were as straight as could be. He was ready to jump into action at any moment, ready to help Sherlock.

He pointed another load of paper to Sherlock’s attention, they looked like they had ben  crumpled and stained, those were the ones the Lieutenant had found in the bins.

« You thought they were hiding something but knew they wouldn’t be as stupid as to put it with the rest of the paper trash. »

 

« Yes, the food trash is the first one to get rid off, I was afraid it would already be gone but thankfully it wasn’t. »

He looked down at himself, at the mess his clothes were now but quickly moved on and pulled a paper out of the pack to shoved it in Sherlock’s face. The 'official' report.

« Look at this one, they told us they had found nothing in he following days of the attack, no movement or sign of life. We all knew it was a lie, afterthe attack they had found only three bullets, while the boys heard a lot more shots, there had to be more. But there wasn’t! »

He took another paper and even with the stains ( Burgundy sauce by the smell of it ) the writings underneath were still visible. The Lieutenant’s hands were shaking slightly, but was out of excitement and adrenaline more likely, rather than fear.

« Which means they came afterwards to clean up. And it looks like they did, out of nowhere, that very night, the thermal cameras caught four people coming on the spot, running around and then disappearing. We don’t know how they came here or how they left. » The Lieutenant’s breathing was a tad faster as well, definitely excited.

 

Sherlock frowned and looked over the rest of the papers, his heart rate had sped up, the familiar thrill of solving a case rushing through his veins. Two days before Sherlock had arrived, the radio signals had picked something up, a very faint signal that lasted for about two minutes. The reports had stop after that, the 5 days of surveillance done as was the protocol (the day Sherlock had arrived). 

 

« How can this be possible, how can there be signs without showing a beginning or an ending of the appearance. They just appeared, there were no footprints leading anywhere either, god how?! »

Sherlock paced around the room, the Lieutenant looking at the detective without moving a muscle. He too seemed to be thinking but Sherlock had more data, he could figure it out more easily. But apparently the Lieutenant had the annoying habit of talking aloud while thinking. Which Sherlock repel-

« Where would they be hiding then? »

 

Hiding…Yes hiding! The short lived movements, the sparkling of radio waves, all signs of human actions appearing and disappearing without a sign like rain in England. The marks on the floor weren’t a snipper, they were the linings of a trapdoor. They were hiding in plain sight, right where they wouldn’t look, for there was nothing to look at in the desert but sand.

 

« They’re in the sand. »

 

Sherlock’s breath stopped, his brain running a thousand miles a second. Of course how could he not have seen it?! He gathered the papers in a hast and turned to the Lieutenant, his eyes wide and pulse quicker than ever before. He was so close to John, he felt suddenly so alive. 

 

_« Thank him, he helped you so much, thank him Sherlock. » John had once said when Lestrade had saved him from a certain death when facing a suspect._

_Sherlock had tried to take on the murderer by himself but had resulted with a knife to the ribs. He wasn’t that skilled in hand to hand combat back then. And Lestrade had driven him to the hospital. Thankfully the closest one was the one John worked at and he was on duty that night._

_As John fixed his boyfriend’s torso he scolded Sherlock for being irresponsible and a dick to Lestrade (he had yelled at Lestrade to take him to the hospital, refusing to get into an ambulance). He knew only his rib was hurt but that his lung was fine so there was no need to panic and call an ambulance._

_« I will don’t worry. » Sherlock sighed, running his hand on John’s shoulder as he worked. John was very skilled and quick to patch him up, but stayed transfixed on the gash in Sherlock’s skin. John ran his hand on the younger man’s stomach, his eyes shinning with unshed tears._

_« I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you Sherlock, I…I love you so much. » It had been the first time John had told him he loved him. Of course after that Sherlock had thanked Lestrade a great deal._

 

« Thank you, Lieutenant, I know where to find them and if they don’t want me to expose their lies they’d better go save them. » He shook the Lieutenant’s hand and smiled briefly at him, even if he looked as confused as ever. The Lieutenant’s grip was strong, but not aggressive as Sherlock let go of the handshake.

« John is kept in an underground basement I believe. We shouldn’t waste any time. »

 

Sherlock handed a few of the papers to the Lieutenant, they should do this together, the more pressure they put on them, the lesser were the chances of them refusing to rescue the soldiers.

 

« Mr. Holmes…I um… » The Lieutenant hesitated, clenching his jaw and rummaging around with the papers in his hands. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, his sign for people to get a move on. He was so close now he couldn’t lose a second more now!

« I know about John and you. He didn’t straight up tell me but after a pretty rough day, he had worked all through the night and he was into bits. And he just started talking about you like it was the most natural thing for him to do, yet he seemed mesmerized by you. When I asked him about it he smiled and said that even when he had nothing, he had you. And the look in his eyes and the way he talked about you…I just knew. And it’s pretty obvious you love him as well. »

 

The Lieutenant gave a slight smile, that was probably meant to be sympathetic but came out more sad than anything (maybe he did lost his wife? Accident, yes car accident, he wasn’t there and still blames himself, he also feels very guilty for leaving his child alone), to which Sherlock respond with a slight shake of his head. Sherlock bit his lip and took a deep breath before exiting the tent. The familiar smell of John that intoxicated the tent leaving him feeling less brave but he was coming so close now.

 

He knew his love for John was transparent, it always had been. He couldn’t help his love for the man. He couldn’t help it crashing on him like waves or seeping through him sweet like honey, soothing every cut the world had made on him or making him drown with affection. John Watson was a complex man, of course the emotion he would rise in Sherlock would be complex as well.

 

« I can’t afford to lose him, so I’m going to get him. » Sherlock breathed out, more to himself than anyone else. And with that Sherlock marched on with the Lieutenant following shortly behind him. A little talk with Major Sholto was to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, as always a comment and kudos is always appreciated, I'm sorry this chapter was so short but exams are coming very soon for me and even if I don't have time to write I wanted to give you a little something before a rather long wait. Thanks for reading <3


	12. John mails #6

**27 August 2007**

 

Hey Sherlock,

I received a letter from Mrs. Hudson, a note from Lestrade and a letter from your brother as well, all about you. They’re all concerned about you, say you barely speak, even when they ask about me. They fear you might have deleted me. That you act as if I had never existed.

I won’t hold it against you if you did. I know that’s how you protect yourself…Just please Sherlock, keep me alive in there. If you give up on me I don’t know what I would do, who I would turn to.

 I love you, Sherlock Holmes. Take care of yourself please.

 

 


	13. Finally

As he opened his eyes John wondered how long he had slept. Could have been ten minutes or nine days, he couldn’t possibly know. Being locked up in the cell of an underground base with no sunlight or any indication of what day it was tend to mess with one’s time perception. The torture didn’t help either. John didn’t know how long he had been down there, but he knew it was too late for any help to come get them. One of his privates had died the last time they were taken to that room. It was only him, Stevens and McCallum.

 

He had made an escape attempt but it had fallen flat. He got caught almost immediately. He had time to arrange the tag as what he had thought would be a good plan B. But now that he thought about it, it would take Sherlock Holmes to save them. And now he wasn’t so sure Sherlock loved him as much as he had thought. Surely he’ll never come here. A case like this, a 6 at most. Even if John’s life was at stake. Plus it would involve the military and would probably involve Mycroft if Sherlock ever heard of it. Not a chance he would come.

 

John closed his eyes again and fell into something resembling sleep, yet it felt far from it.

 

 

« There is nothing I can do Mr. Holmes! » The Major and Sherlock had been yelling back and forth for half an hour now. Sherlock was seething with anger and he feared his desperation showed more than his determination. He grit his teeth in barely concealed fury. Sholto was in a similar state, he had been biting the inside of his cheek ever since Sherlock came in the tent.

In the corner, by Sherlock’s side was the Lieutenant. He stood with his arms crossed, but let Sherlock do all the talking. Yet his presence was enough to exerce some kind of pressure on his superior, even if didn’t participate in the feud.

 

« What if I go on my own? » Sherlock was ready to  try it all out, he would go into hell if it meant he could at least see John. John had save him, he would do the same.

 

_« Can I know what the hell you think your doing? » John had asked, speaking through his teeth, the way he did to control his anger._

_Sherlock froze on his spot on the kitchen floor, the needle in his hand shaking slightly with his cravings. He was so close why did John had to come down?!_

 

_« None of your business. » He had answered quietly. He knew John would disapprove, but why did it matter? John would leave, like Victor had, so why bother?_

_John stepped to Sherlock and took the needle away from him. Sherlock wanted to get his fix so bad, so why did he didn’t do something to get it back?_

 

_Sherlock watched as John emptied the needle in the sink before throwing it out. John sighed and turned back to Sherlock, crouching so he was on Sherlock’s level. John’s hand came up and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen in Sherlock’s eyes._

_« No more drugs sweetheart, you promised. »_

 

Sholto huffed and straightened his back. He looked Sherlock up and down before answering.

« Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t send anyone on their own, they’ll die before they get to the location. I can’t even imagine _you_ , in suc conditions. I’ve had enough of the suicide missions and of all of this Watson business. »

 

_He’s lying!_ Sherlock could read it all over his face, his blinking was way too quick and the pearl of sweat descending on his temple said so. He cared about John, he cared about all of his soldiers but he cared so much about John Watson.

 

 _«_ The case has been closed for a reason. There is nothing left to do. Now get your things so we can call the helicopter as soon as possible. »

This was too much for Sherlock. He had one last card to play and he’ll play it, it was he had left anyway…

 

« Major this is not only the life of four soldiers that are stake, but also the life of my best friend. Give this order now because I’ll never leave this place without him! Give. The. Order. Now! » Sherlock’s voice resonated in the small space, the silence so heavy that nobody dared to breath at that moment.

 

« You won’t let John Watson die Major. You just won’t. »

The Major and the detective stared each other down for thirty long seconds before Sholto looked down. Every muscle in the detective’s body was tensing up.

« Fine. We’re going. But you’re staying here. »

 

Sherlock held back a smile. Like hell he was staying here, twirling his thumbs.

 

 

The lieutenant had helped him get an outfit, a gun and had shaved Sherlock’s head while the squad of volunteers Sholto had put together suited up. Sherlock had the perfect disguise to get in the car without any problem. Now Sholto was reviewing the plan, pointing at each soldiers while saying what they should do when he reached Sherlock and incomprehension crowed his features.

 

« What…Mr. Holmes what are you doing here? » He all but yelled, his eyebrows raising much higher than Sherlock thought humanly possible.

 

« Well I’m here to help save John Watson, obviously. » The rest of the soldiers eyed him unbelievably, but Sherlock couldn’t care. He was on his way to save John. Soon they’ll be back in their flat, safe and sound.

 

 

Gunshots echoed in the bunker, as soon as they opened the trap door. Now that he knew it was there Sherlock had found it without any difficulty. Sherlock had to stay at the back, his gun had been just for show, he had no idea how to use one. All he could do was wait for the real soldiers to clean the way for him and somehow, these twenty minutes were longer than the year and a half he spent without John.

 

« Mr. Holmes, hurry we cleared the main corridor but don’t stay out here! » Sherlock rushed inside and was shocked by the smell in the cave. It smelled of sweat and dried blood, you could almost taste the metallic tang. And it only got stronger the deeper they got.

 

It was mostly dark in this hell hole and Sherlock had unconsciously blocked out the gunshots and yells of the soldiers, both ennemies and allies. He couldn’t imagine John in this. In the chaos, in the darkness, in the violence that was so far from the gentle man Sherlock knew. Sherlock rushed into the bunker with his flashlight, he couldn’t wait to get out of here with his best friend.

 

As they got deeper still the first room they saw was the one used to scan the area, with various transmitters and computers. Sherlock quickly got to another room. A torture room. The mud floor covered in blood. But no sign of John so Sherlock shook himself out of the trance this room stuck him in. He started screaming out John’s name helplessly. He was sure John was alive, he could feel it.

Each meter he walked without John in his sight made his knees weaker and his mind fuzzier with panic, his teeth clenched so hard it hurt.

 

« John! Jooohn! » Sherlock was screaming at the top of his lungs over the gunshots. He could barely hear his own voice and his throat was hurting with the screaming but he was so close. So close to getting his John back, to bringing him home. Bringing him back to Sherlock. Sherlock looked in every room he passed, flashing his flash light in every one. He simply tried to ignoring the ones with a body in them that he easily recognized as not-John. His blood was rushing in his ears, usually he liked the feeling, but now he hated every second of it. He just wanted it to be over, it would mean John is alive with him.

 

Every second he spent away from John brought him closer to desperation and this desperation felt like he was dying. Every second. Desperation shaking him to the core, making his screams even louder and shakier as well. Tears were now filling his eyes but he couldn’t bother to stop to wipe them, he was so close. He was right there.

And finally he saw it. The blood covered wall. The smell of iron and hurt clinging to the room and the person in it.

Sherlock felt his heart stop, as did his breath. Everything had stopped. He couldn’t move, the voices weren’t there. The gunshots inexistent. When finally he found it in himself he rushed into the room, still covered by Sholto that had not left his side since he noticed the man in the car.

 

Sherlock almost collapsed then and there. His John was barely recognizable under the black eye, broken cheekbone and other various bruises. Sherlock raised a shaking hand to his face. He wasn’t entirely sure now if he wanted to know if John was dead or alive. Surely he could deduce if John was still breathing. He had lost so much weight, around 20 pounds. He could reach for his neck and check for a pulse, he had done it so many times before. He almost didn’t look like John, dried blood was still all over his face and down his neck, probably there was more under those clothes that didn’t fit him anymore. Surely Sherlock could deduce John’s liveliness. But now it almost seemed impossible for him. He could only see the harm done to the man he loved.

 

But everything kicked back in the second John opened his eyes in alarm. Probably scared it was his captors, there to torture him again. Even if he flinched back, his stance showed he didn’t put up much resistance. This was so unlike John, John would kick and scream and make it a hell for anyone to get to him.

As John recognized Sherlock, he seemed to have seen a ghost. Or maybe an hallucination more likely. Sherlock felt tears get to his eyes again but pushed them away. He needed to get John out of the battlefield as quickly as possible. He needed John to see a doctor. He needed to keep John safe.

 

« Sherlock? » John croaked out. Dehydration, he needed to be quick, really quick. Sherlock couldn’t speak. If he spoke he would break down. Now wasn’t the moment. He was on the most important part of his mission, getting John to safety.

So in answer he gripped John’s hand and nodded, looking John in the eyes. John sucked in a breath, like a drowning man finally reaching the surface. Sherlock couldn’t help but squeeze John tight to his chest in answer. He was finally there. Back in his arms. Sherlock felt like he could breath again as well.

They sat up as quickly as John’s condition would allow them to and Sherlock couldn’t seem to be able to keep his hands off of John now that he finally had him back. Sherlock turned to the door and Sholto was still there. If he hadn’t knew the man better he would have said he was expressionless, but having learned more about him in those few days, he could tell Sholto was hurting but was keeping to himself.

 

« Glad to see you alive John. Holmes we gotta get a move on. » Sholto said, his voice always this still baritone. John nod back, his eyes fueling with gratitude and relieve. Sherlock had an arm around John to keep him upright and John had a arm around Sherlock’s shoulders, clinging to the military fatigues Sherlock wore to keep himself upright.

Getting out was much simpler than getting in, all they had to do was ignore every lifeless body they passed. They had already saved the two soldiers that had stayed with John and were still alive, now they were just waiting for the three others to jump in the car and drive back to camp as quickly as possible.

 

Sholto got in the car and helped Sherlock get John in the car back, where all the soldiers had taken the seats. This left John and Sherlock on the car floor but neither could care. The sun was just rising when the car took off, everyone in it settled in.

 

John laid between Sherlock’s legs, his head against Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock held him there tightly, seemingly protecting him from everything around them, even the looks of the last remaining soldiers still standing awake. Sherlock softly laid his head on John’s, his lips tasting a bloodied strand of hair. But he couldn’t seem to care in the slightest, cradling John even more into his arms.

 

«What happened to your hair? » John slurred out, obviously exhausted. Sherlock looked up, he hand’t even noticed he had closed his eyes. When he looked at John he still had his eyes closed, a small smile playing on his lips, even if his brows were slightly furrowed. Which proved he genuinely worried about it.

 

« What you don’t like it? » Sherlock snarked back. A quiet giggle left John’s throat before he passed out against Sherlock. _« Finally, I have you back. Fucking finally. »_ Thought Sherlock, his cheek caressing John’s head. Sherlock held John’s hand tighter in his, making his embrace tighter around the man and allowed himself to breath, really breath for the first time in 11 months. His lips were still trembling as he cradled his lover in his arms.

 

John couldn’t sleep, he had closed his eyes because he was so exhausted but he refused to sleep. He had that dream Sherlock would come and save him one too many times and if it was real he didn’t want to miss a second of it. But if it was a dream, it was one he didn’t want to wake from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this one was the longest part with the first chapter so I hope you enjoyed it! How was that reunion for you then? Tell me all about your thoughts and feels in the comments!


	14. John's mail #7

**18 June, 2008**

 

Hey everyone!

You would expect it’ll be boring back home but that’s because you don’t know what it’s like to date Sherlock Holmes. Well you could possibly guess now that you’ve met him but nothing compares to living with him 24/7 for 8 years.

Never mind, that’s not why I was writing to you anyway. I hope some of you can make it home in November because Sherlock and I are getting married. The 22th, you better be there!

Good luck to all of you, all my best, Dr. J. Watson(-Holmes).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am quite sad this fic is now over...thank you for reading it and I hope you liked it!


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